


Late Nights in the Dreamatorium

by MrsSaxon



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Dreamatorium, During season 3-ish, F/M, Indiana Jones trope, Phantom of the Opera trope, Pride & Prejudice trope, The Dreamatorium really works!, continuity???, of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:37:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/MrsSaxon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secretly fascinated by the dreamatorium, Annie goes to explore. One thing is for certain, once you enter the rabbit hole, you don't come back the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Even after Abed had showed her how the Dreamatorium worked and that it was used for more than pretend time, she still thought it took up valuable floor space. She didn’t deny that the Dreamatorium had its uses and was probably even necessary for Abed to function on a day to day basis. Annie didn’t want to consider what Abed would do with all his creative, imaginative energy without a safe outlet. But she didn’t quite believe it was the magical, all-seeing, all-knowing miracle Abed and Troy said it was.

But now she did understand a little of what was going on inside. Abed and Troy always seemed so relaxed when they emerged, even if there had been a commotion inside a few minutes ago. The concentrated power of the imagination intrigued Annie. She wondered if people besides Abed might be able to harness the simulation engine…

Loathe as she was to admit it, Annie was quite keen on exploring her own fantasies as well. While they weren’t as action-packed or plot-driven as Abed’s worlds, Annie built up dreams of romance and drama as elaborate as any sci-fi adventure Abed could come up with. Any free time she’d had in high school had been spent thinking about her and Troy in a number of future encounters. Or maybe it wasn’t Troy, maybe it was Mr. Darcy, or Don Draper, or Derek Shepard, or the celebrity crush of the week. If the Dreamatorium would let her enter even one of these fantasies…

The thought plagued her. When she thought no one was looking, she’d eye the door, wondering if the Dreamatorium would respond if she told it to render an environment, if it only responded to Abed, or if it wouldn’t know how to render environments Abed hadn’t programmed for it. Programmed for it? She had to stop herself and look away. It couldn’t be programmed, it was toilet paper rolls and Kleenex boxes in an empty room. It wasn’t real.

But still the thought plagued her. Eventually she hatched a plan. One night, she told herself, when she was feeling very bold and after she was sure Troy and Abed had gone to sleep, she’d sneak inside and find out. If nothing happened, nothing happened. No harm done, no one to see how she had embarrassed herself. And if something perhaps did happen, well, Troy and Abed would never need to know. She’d be out again before morning, having enjoyed a little something-something and nothing in the apartment would change. It was the perfect plan.

Unfortunately, as soon as she had finalized the plan in her head… she couldn’t get it out. Inevitably, she couldn’t sleep that night, the anxious, eager thrill was too much. She could barely stand to wait for Troy and Abed to sleep. It was a weekday, so they weren’t going to stay up doing the Troy and Abed Show, thank god, but they tended to be night owls anyway. Fortunately, Troy seemed to be sleepy so he didn’t stay up too much longer after Annie and Abed never stayed up after Troy. Around 1 am, they were both in their bunk beds with the lights off. Annie squirmed and fought with her sheets as she tried to be patient. The fifteen minutes until she could hear Troy’s gentle snoring were agonizing. But at last, she was free to explore the wonders of the Dreamatorium.

Sliding into her teddy bear slippers, she got out of bed. Slowly, so the door wouldn’t squeak, she peeked around her bedroom door. No motion, no untoward sounds. She edged outside and held her breath as she passed the blanket fort surrounding Troy and Abed’s beds. Nothing stirred. With a silent sigh of relief, she was home free. Standing in front of the Dreamatorium door, she paused, gulping. This would be so embarrassing if anyone found her here, right now, about to give in to fantasy like a kid, like- She frowned and made herself stop. Troy and Abed weren’t children, she wasn’t embarrassed for them so she shouldn’t be embarrassed for herself. Even if deep down she was sure they’d all laugh at her.

Hesitantly, she touched the handle, then started to turn in increments, afraid that the slightest sound would wake her roommates. But the Dreamatorium swung open with only the slightest gust of air, as if it was welcoming her into its domain. She bit her lip and looked back once to make sure reality was still there, solid and silent, before stepping in and closing the door as quietly as it had opened. She groped for the light-switch, then wondered if the Dreamatorium would simulate light for her if she just told it to.

She shook her head. “What nonsense,” she muttered to herself. She found the switch and flicked it on. The black and orange graphed walls stood all around her, waiting for instructions. She took a deep breath, “Execute simulation: Pride and Prejudice, render environment: the Netherfield Ball.”

The room stayed. Black walls, orange tape. Annie tensed, crossing her fingers, hoping. As she let out her next breath, the walls dissolved and a beautiful Regency hall appeared in its place. She gasped; it was perfect. There was candle lighting from the brass fittings set into the walls, a string quartet was sitting in the back, playing a reel; there was flocked wallpaper, polished floors, and the Dreamatorium had outdone itself imagining dozens of couples lining up to dance and more strangers milling around, filling up the hall. Annie looked down and saw that the Dreamatorium had faithfully given her an empire waist dress of a regrettable pastel pink, but it was time period appropriate, so she couldn’t complain. Abed was a stickler for accuracy in simulations, after all.

“Miss Elizabeth,” said a deep voice at her ear.

Annie turned, surprised to find the facial qualities of the simulated Mr. Darcy reminded her of Jeff.

“May I have the honor of dancing with you next?”

The response came easier than it should have, “You may.” She had to pretend to feel annoyed and frustrated, still overcome by the sheer joy of actually acting out one of her fantasies. She would have to find a way to steal more time in the Dreamatorium. There was so much she wanted to simulate, so many fantasies she could try out here.

She rejoined Mr. Darcy on the dancefloor. “I love this dance,” Annie said. She would have preferred to actually do this conversation with company, but the Dreamatorium was doing a remarkable simulation of warm hands in hers and the comforting, but slightly dominating presence for Darcy.

“By and by, I might remark on the number of couples or you on the size of the… room,” she trailed off as she turned toward the door and found it open.

Abed was standing in the doorway, wearing the bunny slippers she’d gotten him for Christmas, holding a bowl of room temperature ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, face inscrutable.

Annie shrunk down to community-college-student-in-pajamas size and squeaked, “Nothing.”

Abed peered inside, eyes sweeping over the interior of the room, “It looks to me like you’re simulating Pride and Prejudice. How?”

Annie blinked, how could he possibly see it too? “I… I just walked in and asked the Dreamatorium to render it,” she mumbled.

“Huh,” Abed frowned, but stepped inside. “I must have left it running when we left this afternoon,” he stroked the simulated brass fittings on the wall curiously, “would you mind if we continued the simulation? I want to see how the Dreamatorium runs when I’m not simulating.” He set down his ice cream and stepped into her simulation.

Annie hesitated, paralyzed by embarrassment. How could Abed _see_ this? And if Abed didn’t even know that people besides him could run the Dreamatorium, then what did her presence here imply? Did the Dreamatorium really work? Her head was buzzing so loudly she didn’t realize Abed had unpaused the simulation and filled Mr. Darcy’s place at her side.

“I’d be happy to oblige, please advise me on what you’d like most to hear,” Abed took her hands, guiding her through the steps.

The familiar line brought Annie back to the present. “That reply will do for present,” she answered, somewhat unsteadily. She swept around a simulated person and cautiously eyed Abed’s costume. He looked refined in a well-cut Regency suit. It was uncanny how his feet moved, like he really knew the steps.

As she met him again, she spoke, “Abed, I-”

The Abed-Darcy frowned, “Miss Elizabeth?”

Annie gulped and nodded, “Perhaps I might observe that private balls are much nicer than public ones.” She slipped back into character, putting aside the shock and confused feelings for another time, another person.

“Do you talk as a rule while dancing?” Mr. Darcy’s voice smirked, though his face remained neutral.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, “No… no, I prefer to be disinterested and taciturn,” she quipped back.

Mr. Darcy smirked, just for the barest moment, and escorted her through another passage. “Is it your habit, Miss Elizabeth, to enter the recreational rooms of others without permission?” His tone was mild, but Annie’s face burned with shame. She looked up at Abed hopelessly, but his face was perfectly in character, neutral and aloof.

Annie searched for a way to reply in character, “I… I did not seek to do injury. And I was under the misapprehension that the facility was for public use.”

“A limited, public use,” Mr. Darcy corrected, glancing at her, “and only with supervision.”

Elizabeth nodded, “I will remember that in future, Mr. Darcy.” She gulped as Mr. Darcy pulled her close, turning her around slowly. He looked down into her eyes, studying them. Annie wanted to blink, to run away. It wasn’t fair the way Abed could read people but never let anyone else read him. But she held firm; this was her fantasy, she would not be bullied out of it.

“And what was your intention when you stole into this property, Miss Elizabeth?” At last, Mr. Darcy uncurled her from him, letting her swing back again.

“Stole?!” Elizabeth sputtered, “Mr. Darcy, you go too far. And my intentions are my own. I made use of an available resource for my own purposes, which is the intended purpose of this property. I did nothing I am ashamed of.” Now she chose to meet his eyes, full of a heated glare.

“And what of trust?” Mr. Darcy seemed unperturbed by her gaze, but his voice was growing in inflection, “Would you make free with anyone’s resources without a thought to the consequences? Or just mine?”

Abed didn’t sound like Mr. Darcy anymore.

“You guys!”

They had forgotten to close the door. They turned at once toward the sound, breaking from the tight grip they had on each other. Annie was surprised to feel a chill on her skin where Abed had been.

Troy stood at the entrance to the Dreamatorium, rubbing his eyes, “It’s almost 2 in the morning, what’s going on?” He could barely keep his eyes open, squinting against the light.

Abed picked up his bowl and spoon, “Annie wanted to use the Dreamatorium. I was helping. Wanna eat ice cream in bed until we fall asleep?” He sounded fine, normal… not like he had sounded just now.

“Awesome, let’s go,” even half-asleep, Troy wanted to do anything Abed wanted to do. And Abed clearly didn’t want to talk to Annie about what had just happened.

“I think I’ll just go to bed,” she said redundantly, since Troy and Abed were already in the kitchen. She frowned at the back of Abed’s head as he created some ghastly sugar concoction with Troy. She wasn’t sure, but Abed had implied she’d really broken his trust. She wanted to apologize and yet the way he had accused her had made her defensive. She had as much right to her fantasies as he had and if she could run the Dreamatorium…

That stopped her. Looking around her, the simulation was still running. “End simulation,” she muttered and turned out the light, closing the door behind her. Troy hadn’t seen Pride and Prejudice when he looked inside. And she could run the Dreamatorium successfully without Abed. And she had no idea how Abed felt about that.

One thing was for sure, despite the best laid plans of ants and Annie, something in the apartment was definitely going to change.


	2. Chapter 2

For a week, she didn’t go near Abed or the Dreamatorium. She avoided being alone with him and Abed never sought her out, so she assumed that was as he liked it. When he and Troy would go into the Dreamatorium, she would close her door, as if this could deny the Dreamatorium’s very existence.

But their mutual silence was causing unpredicted tension in the apartment and Troy was having none of it.

“What is up with you two?” he accosted them during a commercial break in Broadchurch. They had each tried to watch Gracepoint and agreed that American adaptations were the worst. So they’d gone back to pirating.

“Nothing’s up, Troy,” Annie replied innocently.

“Yeah, we’re just really busy with school. I have my screenplay final coming up, Annie has her-”

“Don’t give me that,” Troy interrupted, “something’s going on between you two, you never say anything to each other unless I’m around.”

Annie guffawed and was pretty sure Abed made an equally fake sound. “How could you tell that? If you’re not here, then how do you know Abed and I aren’t talking? We’re pals, buds, friends who share an apartment…” Annie rambled.

“I can tell, okay?” Troy pouted, “You don’t walk into a room with people in it, sitting in total silence, for 5 days.” He glared at them both. “I don’t know what’s going on, but talk to each other or so help me, I will tell the group and get them to make you talk to each other.”

That wasn’t a threat to be taken lightly, given the number of interventions the group routinely instigated. Annie motivated most of those, but she had no doubt Troy could match her pound for pound when it came to determination.

So, conceding that the stalemate wasn’t working, she confronted Abed the next day.

“Hey… are we cool?” she asked after presenting him with a bowl of fresh buttered noodles.

Abed dug in without looking up, “Of course we are, why wouldn’t we be?”

Once again, it was impossible to tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. Or, third possibility, lying flat out to avoid confrontation.

Annie pursed her lips and tried a new tactic, “I was thinking about using the Dreamatorium today… do I have your permission?”

“You can do whatever you want, Annie. You live here; this apartment is as much yours as it is mine or Troy’s.” Abed was very interested in stirring his buttered noodles.

“Thank you,” she said hesitantly, “Well, okay then, I’ll just-”

“Of course, the Dreamatorium is my invention,” he looked up.

Ah ha, so they weren’t cool after all. She nodded, “And I respect that. So I was hoping you could supervise me,” she arched her eyebrows pointedly.

Abed’s expression shifted, ever so slightly, no easier to read, but distinctly different. A new flavor of inscrutable. “Cool. Cool cool cool,” he pushed the noodles away and followed her to the Dreamatorium, “What scenario did you want to render?” He cocked his head.

Annie had given this some thought and had another plan ready, “I was thinking Phantom of the Opera.”

Abed only blinked, “Novel or musical edition?”

Annie frowned, pretending to consider, “Which do you feel more comfortable with?”

“Never read the book, but not in the mood for singing either. I did see the silent movie, I’ve never rendered a silent environment…” Abed was getting that inspired look.

“Um, I think a combination of book and musical? How’s that?” Annie interjected before he could get lost in his own brain.

“Sounds good to me,” Abed hit the button, “Render environment-”

“Hold on,” Annie held up a hand, “aren’t you supposed to be supervising? Let me simulate.”

Abed raised his eyebrows. His expression twitched and for a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t give up control. But before his stare could start freaking her out, he released his hand from the button and stepped back, “It’s all yours.”

Trying to restrain her smugness, Annie stepped up and pressed the button herself, “Render environment: The Phantom’s Lair, under the Paris Opera House, 1881. Execute simulation: The Phantom and Christine.” As she spoke, the black and orange-graphed walls merged into the cave-like structure of the Parisian catacombs. This cave happened to be semi-furnished, a huge pipe organ dominating the space, candles and sheets of music scattered around, the distant drip of subterranean water. The last example of true Gothic entrapment.

Annie took her place as Christine and knelt on the floor, now in a French dressing gown. In the shadowy lighting, she couldn’t tell where Abed was. Raising her big, doe eyes, she searched fruitlessly into the darkness for a figure, “My Angel, why will you not appear before me?”

“Your faith must be strong, my child, before I can appear,” Abed’s voice seemed to be part of the darkness too, coming up to her from all sides, “You have obeyed me well. Soon, you may see me.”

“I will do whatever you demand, Angel. You are my teacher and protector. It is to you I owe my success,” Annie had to follow the simpering script for awhile longer yet.

“It is indeed,” the Phantom replied, “and you have been grateful. You have told no one of your tutor?”

Annie shook her head, “No, no one.”

“You feel no fear now, here in my home?” Abed’s voice drifted closer.

“I trust you, my Angel. I would follow wherever you lead,” Annie turned toward where she thought he was.

“Then here, Christine, behold your Angel of Music.” Abed stepped out of the corner and Annie was caught out of character as she noticed he’d grabbed his cape and repurposed his Kickpuncher mask. Trying not to reveal she had slipped, she gasped and stepped forward toward him.

“My Angel, why do you cover your face?” she held her hands out gently as she moved toward him.

“This face is not my identity, I choose not to be known by it,” Abed shrunk back slightly.

“But, my Angel, your face is…” she lifted the mask and gasped in horror. Like a reflex, Abed’s hand flew to his face, covering the imagined defects.

“No!” he howled, “You promised to follow my commands! Get out! Out!” Within the confines of the Dreamatorium, Annie scooted back and Abed flew into the opposite corner.

“I’m sorry,” Annie said, full of tears.

“You have seen my face, now you can never leave!” Abed threw back at her.

“B-But I only wanted to see,” she insisted, “I only wanted to know… to understand.”

“No one may look at the Phantom’s face,” he retorted.

“I know.”

Even though she couldn’t hear or see him, Annie knew Abed was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Swallowing, she continued, “I had realized some time ago that the only person who could be teaching me was a real musical genius. The Phantom always knew the shows better than anyone and was rumored to have helped build this opera house. That combined with hearing my rehearsal songs coming up through the grating on organ music convinced me of your identity.”

Annie paused and focused on where she knew Abed was, “But I had to be sure. I never meant to humiliate you… or abuse your trust. I’m sorry.”

Abed answered faster than she had expected, “It isn’t easy for the Phantom to forgive such a betrayal. You were not invited to look, and yet you took initiative. My secret things are mine, even if I trust you.”

“I want to ask for your forgiveness,” Annie moved closer and picked up the cyborg mask, “I meant no harm and if I have inflicted pain, I won’t prolong it.” She held the mask out to him like a peace offering.

Abed took it, delicately, taking his time as he put it back on. “If… Christine will promise never to pry into the Phantom’s secrets again, he will accept her apology.”

Annie bit her lip and nodded, “I promise. But, my Angel, I must be able to experiment with music too.”

Abed narrowed his eyes, “You wish to leave your tutor?”

“No, no, not at all, but…” Annie searched for how to make this request, “I must be free to experiment as I wish, to become a better musician. It would only be to your credit.” She hoped the double-meaning was getting through.

Abed rose and stalked around the shadows, pacing, “You are asking for freedom from supervision.” He came to a rest, looking at her.

Annie gulped and looked down, “I know this place is yours; it is your creation. But it was designed to create everything and… I only want to use it for what it was designed for.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Abed murmured. His voice was much closer and when Annie looked up, he was crouching beside her.

Annie peered behind the flashing, cyborg mask and met his eyes, “I dreamt of a different life too.”

The moment of honesty held. For many moments, neither of them spoke or moved.

Outside, the door to the apartment opened and Troy came in, jingling his keys and humming something from the radio. It was a shame Abed hadn’t figured out how to soundproof the Dreamatorium yet.

Annie and Abed backed away from each other. Annie hadn’t realized quite how close they’d been.

“I cannot grant your request,” Abed spoke hurriedly, “This is mine and it will stay that way. But your tutor has not given up on you. You have not heard the last of the Phantom, Christine.” He offered her a hand to help her up.

Annie swallowed slowly and nodded. She could see why Abed didn’t want her wandering in here, doing her own thing, when this was his escape first. But at least now he understood why she wanted to try it too.

She took his hand and let him help her up. Once standing, she did notice how close they were again. “My Angel… thank you.” She didn’t want it to end quite yet. It felt like they were so close to… something and aborting it now would ruin a perfectly good chance for… whatever was about to happen.

Troy knocked on the door, “You guys making up in there?”

“Yeah,” they chorused.

“Great! Come out when you’re finished so we can celebrate. I got root beers! And a crème soda for Annie ‘cause I know she likes those.”

There was another pause, this one sluggish and awkward as the calls from the real world invaded the sense of character and motivation. Even Abed, normally unshakable in his concentration, fidgeted and flustered trying to fully resume the simulation.

“Well, I guess we should just…” Annie trailed off, gesturing lamely at the door.

Abed took her hand quickly and drew her back, “Tomorrow, Christine.” Abed waited for Annie’s eyes to widen before continuing, “Tomorrow, the Phantom requests your presence for rehearsal, 2pm sharp. Your presence is compulsory,” he drew closer, adding a little threat to his voice to ensure authenticity.

Annie gulped and bowed her head, playing the part again, “Of course, my Angel, I am your faithful student.” She looked up at him with that doe-eyed look one last time and just briefly, Abed laid a finger under her chin, tilting her gaze into his before “End simulation.”

Annie knew it was coming and closed her eyes. It was safer than taking the chance that Abed might see all her eyes would tell: disappointment, frustration, hope, panic, excitement. When she felt sure she had control over her eyes again, she opened them and took off the frock she’d borrowed for Christine’s costume. Abed was already putting his costume away.

“You’re very good at simulation, as it turns out,” he said gaily, not looking at her, “I’m excited to find out what you have in store for us tomorrow.”

Annie blinked, “What I have…?”

“You said you wanted to run without supervision,” Abed’s smile was a master stroke as he walked out the door ahead of her.

Annie could not believe she had wound up the mouse in her own trap.


End file.
